


Free Falling Since Fourteen

by shadesofhades



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Hawkeye Pierce, Canonical Character Death, Episode: s01e17 Sometimes You Hear the Bullet, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Mpreg, Pre-Canon, Teen Pregnancy, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 06:16:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18114989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadesofhades/pseuds/shadesofhades
Summary: Hawkeye was fourteen when he realized that his interest in other boys and sex had unforeseen consequences.





	Free Falling Since Fourteen

**Author's Note:**

> This is super, super self-indulgent fic pretty much just written for me and two friends.
> 
> But the Tommy tag is sort of lacking so I thought I'd post here anyways in case someone else might enjoy it. 
> 
> Sort of a parallel universe to another mpreg I'm working on, or at least operates under the same set of rules/laws.

(1936)

Hawkeye was fourteen when he realized that his interest in other boys and sex had unforeseen consequences. No one ever explained to him that certain boys could get pregnant, and even if they had he wouldn't have thought he was one of them. It was rare, the book said -- the one he'd found accidentally in his dad's study that had explained the stages of pregnancy and fetal development, that had only been vaguely interesting until he'd gotten to that chapter. The one that had just about stopped his heart and left him feeling nauseated -- although he'd felt like that a lot lately.

One in a thousand men were male carriers. One out of one thousand. There weren't even a thousand people in this town. Why would he possibly ever think he was that special? Except, that apparently, he was. The nausea, the strange feeling in his limbs and most of all the way his belly curved outwards ever so slightly were all the proof he really needed.

He didn't know what he was supposed to do with the information in front of him. If he were a girl, she'd probably tell the father of the baby in hopes they would get married and then her parents in hopes that if marriage didn't happen, they wouldn't force her away in shame. If he were a girl, this would be so much easier. He could live with the shame, probably even being forced to sign his baby over to the state, but he didn't know how he could live with the options he had. He couldn't begin to explain to Tommy about the baby they made together, and they couldn't get married anyway, so what did it matter if he ever found out? 

And telling his dad? 

This wasn't like a normal teenage pregnancy, where a girl disappears for a six months and comes back pretending nothing happened but everyone knows, they're just too polite to say -- like Debbie Perkins, who had come back to school, a year behind and looked like a piece of her soul had been ripped away.

It was illegal, immoral and would not only embarrass and ostracize him, but his father by association. He could go to jail or worse, be committed to an institution to be experimented on. He knew all too well the terrifying things psychologists did to homosexuals, he'd read about them in books and heard about them in grisly tales that were passed around the few of them brave enough to meet each other.

He was terrified of that fate, of strange injections, of electrocution, and worse of all lobotomy. He had planned on attending medical school. He had planned on becoming a doctor and helping people like his father did. He had planned a lot of things, but now it no longer mattered, because of what he had growing inside his belly.

But, eventually he'd have to let his dreams go. He'd have to resign his fate and leave it in the hands of others and hope that things might not be the worst they could be. Maybe there was the smallest glimmer of hope that his dad might not turn him in or throw him out. He had always been an understanding father -- even when he had caught Hawkeye two months ago smoking a cigarette in bed with Janet Calimero, there had been disappointment, but Hawkeye had always had a way of trying his patience and his nerves since practically his birth and the incident had gone without many words passing between them, although Hawkeye had a feeling it's because he had caught his dad so off-guard that he didn't know what to say. After a few days the only thing his dad would comment about it was that he loved him, even through his stupidity.

But this wasn't a minor incident of reckless behavior. This was major. This would affect his entire future, their futures and reputations and the entirety of that was in his father's hands.

Eventually, he would find out if his dad really meant it when he said he would love him no matter what because eventually he'd have to tell his secret, because the book had made one thing abundantly clear -- natural birth would kill both him and the baby. He wasn't sure, though, which thought scared him more: dying or testing his father's love.

\----

He had to hide it for as long as he could. It was his only option -- the only good one at least. He needed to pretend nothing was wrong. He needed to continue school. Most of all he needed to fool his dad into thinking nothing had changed, because he wasn't ready yet to tell him. He wasn't ready to tell him ever, but Hawkeye knew, when the time came, when the baby would be coming, that as angry as his dad would be he wouldn't let Hawkeye die. He hoped. He had never tested his dad like this before.

Instead, he calculated his due date and counted down in dread -- the only upshot the fact that the baby wouldn't come until July when school would be out and the excuses for his absence easier to come by. Of course that meant a barrage of oversized clothing and sweaters at the hottest time of the year, but he could survive -- he had to.

He picked at his food, his growing belly at the back of his mind as he pushed carrots and meatloaf around his plate, but only a bite or two actually going into his mouth, far too aware of his dad's watching eyes across the dining room table.

“Are you feeling okay, Ben?” Dad asked in concern, a cooked carrot on his fork as he looked at his son -- and Hawkeye was afraid that if he looked too hard he would know.

He wished he could become liquid and sink away through the cracks in the floorboards. Instead he sinks into his seat and forces himself to eat a carrot.

“I'm fine. Just not that hungry.”

His dad raised an eyebrow before his fork was set down on his plate and suddenly he was standing over Hawkeye with his hand on his forehead and a look of concern. 

“Well, you're not feverish,” his dad said with a sigh before he stared at Hawkeye, eyes looking him over. “Is it because you've gaining weight?”

Hawkeye hadn't expected his dad to notice. It was only a few pounds, but it was becoming noticeable under his shirt. Despite the constant morning sickness that seems to stay with him all day and skipping meals, his belly still grows like some parasitic nightmare. It's only been six months. He thought that maybe he could hide it, but if he was this big now, what would he look like at nine months and ready to burst? 

Hawkeye's hand moved unconsciously to his stomach before he paused midway, unsure what to do because rubbing his stomach would bring attention to it and if he yanks it away now it will look even more suspicious. He sat, paralyzed with indecision before he finally forced his hand to drop to his leg, his fist clenched, hoping his dad couldn't see the way it shook, or how nervous he was.

“It's normal for someone your age. I wouldn't worry too much about it. You're probably about to hit a growth spurt,” Dad said before he pat Hawkeye on the shoulder and went back to dinner.

It was true that his bones had been a little achy lately, and that in all likelihood he _was_ going to hit a growth spurt, he was only fourteen after all and short in comparison to his father, but Hawkeye couldn't separate the muscle aches associated with growing up from the aches and pains he felt trying to find a new center of balance around his growing belly. 

Hawkeye skewered another carrot, his fork scraping noisily across the china plate before he took a deep breath trying to steady himself. He couldn't bring himself to eat it, even as Dad look expectantly across the table at him, having given him an excuse for his expanding girth. But how long until his dad figured out this wasn't just normal teenage weight gain? How long until he realized that Hawkeye's belly has gotten bigger, but he never grew taller?

How long did he have until the other shoe dropped?

\---

“Hi, Doctor Pierce, is Hawkeye home?”

He would recognize that voice anywhere, and it sent a gut-clenching fear through him, because after his dad, Tommy was about the last person in the world he wanted to discover his condition. 

“Hi, Tommy. I haven't seen you around here recently. Are you and Ben fighting?”

That was because ever since he realized that messing around with Tommy was what got him into trouble he has done well to avoid him -- something of a feat when said person was your best friend and partner in crime and your school was small as theirs. He thought no one had noticed, but apparently Tommy's absence around their house hadn't escaped his dad’s attention. Maybe it was the fact that for the first time since Hawkeye was in fifth grade Daniel Pierce had not had to deal with any of their schemes or the trail of broken items they tended to leave in their wake for the last few months.

It had been three months since he started to avoid Tommy -- he knew it was only a matter of time before Tommy finally came looking for an explanation, but he wasn't ready. Not yet. Even after three months he had no idea what he would say. He couldn't tell Tommy the truth; he couldn't tell anyone. But what other excuse did he have for happily sleeping with Tommy then suddenly spending the next few months avoiding his existence?

What they did wasn't supposed to be a big deal. They were just friends. Friends that had sex, sure, but neither of them had ever taken what they did seriously. It had just seemed like the natural progression of their friendship to fall into bed together. After all, they were both willing to experiment, and although Hawkeye had understood for while now his desire for other boys and his attraction to Tommy in particular, for Tommy it had just been something better than constantly masturbating -- Hawkeye was a warm, willing body. It was just a casual, no strings attached scratching of an itch that neither boy had success doing with girls. It didn't mean anything.

Until it did, because Hawkeye had to ruin it by getting himself pregnant. Not that Tommy hadn't helped.

“I don't know,” Tommy said. “I think he's been avoiding me.”

“Well, he hasn't said anything to me,” his dad said, “but he's seemed a little off lately. Maybe he could use a friend.”

No, no, no. He didn't need a friend! He needed space, he needed isolation, most of all, he needed to stay as far away as possible from the boy who did this to him!

“He's upstairs. Why don't you go up and I'll see if we have snacks for you boys.”

Hawkeye stood frozen to the spot.

Tommy was coming up the stairs to see him, and there would be no place for him to hide. Would Tommy expect them to fool around? How could he possibly hide his belly that gets rounder everyday if they did? What sort of excuse could he give to get out of whatever Tommy wanted of him without it looking suspicious? Even walking up and down the stairs was starting to feel like a chore, so there's no way he could keep up with anything Tommy planned, sexual or not. 

He felt trapped, and he could feel himself start to panic. He wasn't ready for this. He couldn't talk to him about it, and he knew that as soon as Tommy saw him he would notice the weight gain. Even though he was wearing sweatpants and an oversized shirt he'd taken from his dad's closet, he was acutely aware of the elephant in the room and he knew everyone else would see it too. How his dad hadn't put the pieces together yet, he didn't know -- maybe it was just the fact that he saw Hawkeye everyday and the changes were so gradual that he hadn't noticed. Whatever the reason, Hawkeye had been grateful.

He only needed to survive another week of school before it let out for the summer. He only needed to avoid Tommy a little longer. Why did Tommy feel the need to throw a wrench in his plans now when he was so close? In less than two months it would all be over and Hawkeye could take his punishment.

But not before. He needed those two months to plan because so far the last three have yielded nothing.

He looked around his room, weighing his options. 

He could climb down the drain pipe and escape. He'd done it before, though he didn't have a pregnant belly in the way then and he had slipped more than once. It was risky, and as much as Hawkeye wanted to run, the risk was higher than he wanted to take. If he broke something in the fall there's no way he could hide his pregnancy from his dad any longer.

He could hide under the bed in hopes that Tommy might think he had escaped, although Hawkeye wasn't sure he would fit and the idea of the confined space made his palms sweat and his heart race.

He eyed the wardrobe in the corner, his clothes he hasn't been able to fit in in a month spilling out onto the floor from the open door. He had never been tidy, but since bending down to even put his shoes on had become difficult his room had become a total pigsty. 

Kicking aside the clothes, he climbed inside and wrestled the door shut just as he heard Tommy's feet pounding their way across the upstairs landing.

The space was tight, his shoulders brushing the sides every time he wiggled trying to get situated, and it was hot. He could feel sweat beading at his temples, the oversized, long sleeved shirt he wore suddenly suffocating and sticking to his skin.

He held his breath as he heard the bed squeak as if someone sat down on the edge. Tommy was obviously settling in to wait for him.

He just had to outlast Tommy.

“Hawkeye, I know you're in there,” Tommy said, amused.

Hawkeye bites his lip and tries not to think about the fact that the wardrobe seems to be getting smaller and that the temperature seems to go up a degree with every shaky breath he takes.

If he stayed in here long enough, Tommy would give up. He had too.

Except, Hawkeye was beginning to feel a little woozy, and he swore his vision was starting to go funny.

He held out his hands to catch himself on the side of the wardrobe, but his hands slipped and he lost his balance before he tumbled forward and burst through the unlatched door and fell onto his hands and knees onto the floor, inches from Tommy’s feet.

He's caught somewhere between feeling like an ant under a magnifying glass and like a prisoner tasting his first fresh air in twenty years.

He sucked in deep breaths until his hands stop shaking, but he was afraid to look up and follow those long legs that were draped over the side of his bed.

There was a howl of laughter and if Hawkeye wasn't so terrified, he might have laughed along with him, but instead he struggled to push himself up so he was on his knees and then pondered how to find his feet again.

“I wondered how long you'd last in there,” Tommy said and Hawkeye just _knows_ he's wearing a wide, self-satisfied grin without even glancing up.

Hawkeye grabbed at the edge of the bed and tried to hoist himself up, but locking himself in such an enclosed space took its toll on him and his legs felt like liquid and his sweaty palms had a hard time finding purchase on his mattress. After a few minutes of watching and laughing Tommy apparently decided to take pity on him, getting off the bed to put his arm around Hawkeye -- despite his protests and the fact that he was trying hard to pull away -- and lifted him to the bed.

The problem with being pregnant, aside from every other problem, is that everything made him tired now. Just thinking about doing any sort of physical activity made him sleepy and achy. So when he settled on the bed with Tommy tucked in at his side, his body warm and familiar, Hawkeye felt all the fight and panic from ten minutes ago wash away and instead he was left feeling hollow and exhausted and most of all resigned to his fate, because he could see from the look in Tommy's wide eyes that he had noticed the all inches Hawkeye's grown around the middle.

“What's wrong with you?” Tommy asked, his hand coming down to lift the hem of Hawkeye's shirt so he place his palm flat against his harden belly. “Is this what a tumor looks like? Are you dying?”

The baby, of course, chose that exact moment to kick. It's done it a lot lately, and although it hurt, Hawkeye had mostly learned to ignore it.

Tommy pulled his hand back, quickly, eyes wide and terrified and Hawkeye knew he must have figured it all out in that moment -- his fat belly, the reason Hawkeye's been avoiding him -- and he had to try really hard to blink back tears. 

He hated this. He hated everything -- the fact that everything made him cry lately, the fact that none of the clothes he owned fit anymore, the fact that because of one moment, one stupid moment of pleasure, everything could change between them. All the fun they used to have together would be gone because in two months time, they were going to be parents and it would likely be the last time they ever saw each other.

“You're pregnant,” Tommy whispered, like he was afraid, even though they were alone in the room, that they might be overheard -- or maybe he was just afraid and speaking it out loud somehow made it true and real. “How is that even possible? You're not a girl. I mean, I know I haven't seen one naked outside of books, but I'm pretty certain you're not.”

Hawkeye didn't know what to say, or rather, his throat was constricting around his words and his stupid eyes were misting and his nose wouldn't quit and he didn't know how to talk around the tears.

Shit. 

Tommy had always told him he was a sissy, but he'd never actually cried in front of him! Not since they were ten at least and Tommy had diligently taught him how to be a man. And so maybe Hawkeye had a few breakdowns when he was alone, and even more after dad said he wanted to remarry two years ago, but he was always good at putting on a brave face in front of everyone else. Especially in front of Tommy -- he didn't want him to know what a crybaby he really was, because if he knew, maybe Tommy wouldn't want to be his friend anymore.

Tommy wiped his tears away with the edge of Hawkeye's sheet and Hawkeye tried not to feel miserable, but truthfully he hadn't felt this alone while sitting next to someone since mom died.

“It will be okay,” Tommy said softly before he wrapped his arm around Hawkeye's shoulder and pulled him close. “Does anyone else know?”

Hawkeye shook his head.

“We could run off together. I could find a job and take care of us and then the baby.” Even as Tommy said it Hawkeye could see the look of dread in his eyes, the look of wild desperation that he was becoming so familiar with.

“You're only fifteen,” Hawkeye told him miserably. “And I'm only fourteen. Where would we go? Where would we live? What would we do for money and food? Besides, you wanted to go to school for writing. You'd have to give that up. You'd have to give up everything.”

‘And he doesn't even love me,’ Hawkeye thought to himself, ‘not like that anyway.’ He was having Tommy's baby. He couldn't deny that there was some tiny part of Hawkeye that always wished Tommy did feel that way, but a baby wasn't the reason he wanted Tommy to be with him, and how easily Tommy would give up everything for him… As far as Hawkeye knew, Tommy wasn't even a homosexual. Hawkeye had made the first move, Hawkeye had kissed him first, Hawkeye had suggested they had sex, and Tommy was just… bored he’d said, he was tired of chasing girls and getting nowhere, and there was Hawkeye, his best friend willing to give him something no girl would. Of course he'd done it, of course he had kissed Hawkeye back and let Hawkeye jerk him off. They were stupid teenage boys with hormones completely out of control and they were only after having an orgasm with someone other than themselves. 

Everything between them was supposed to be meaningless sex, but somewhere along the lines Hawkeye didn't want it to be meaningless anymore.

If he was honest, maybe it was never meaninglessness to begin with -- not for him. 

“I know we're young, but… if anyone finds out…” 

Hawkeye was used to seeing Tommy as this bigger than life person that could never be knocked down and always had a grin on his face, but for the first time since Hawkeye met him he actually looked… scared, maybe a little lost, and every bit like the kid he really was, that they both were.

“I have to tell my dad, eventually,” Hawkeye said as he wiped his nose across the back of his hand. At least the tears were beginning to subside.

“You could have the baby in secret, somewhere far away from here. Maybe we'll go to Boston. We could leave tonight -- my dad always gets boozed up and passes out about nine o’clock. I could steal his car and pick you up. We'd never have to see anyone again -- no one would ever need know what happened.”

No one would ever learn about his shame -- their shame. It was appealing, an escape from the mess he'd gotten them into. He had gotten them into plenty of jams since they met, but he didn't think anything could ever top this one.

Hawkeye hung his head in defeat.

“I've been reading about male pregnancies,” Hawkeye told him, sadly. “If a doctor doesn't perform a cesarean section, both the baby and I will probably die. Even with one I might. The surgery is really risky.”

He knew that, it had been at the back of his mind ever since he'd read the book, but it had always gotten pushed away, the thought too unpleasant to acknowledge, but now that he's said it outloud he's terrified -- anything could go wrong. Even if his father had nine months to prepare for surgery there was still a good chance of it going wrong, even the most talented surgeons struggled with the procedure on a woman, and most them had probably never performed one on a man. His dad had been a country doctor for so long, how likely was it he'd know what to do when the time came? Hawkeye had wanted to wait, but the idea of his father being ill-prepared for his labor churned his stomach and made his skin feel clammy. Still, the idea of telling him was even worse. The indecision felt like it was eating at him slowly from all directions. 

“So what do we do?” Tommy asked.

Hawkeye sniffed. 

“I don't know,” he said honestly. “I wish I could go back in time and just undo everything we did.”

He leaned his head on Tommy’s broad shoulder, a small flutter of happiness awakening in him when Tommy put his other arm around Hawkeye and pulled him into a tight hug. He hated the feeling. He hated that Tommy somehow made him feel safe and better when everything in his life was crumbling and he couldn't see a way out. He hated that little voice in the back of his head that whispered, ‘I love you.’ Most of all he hated the part of his mind, illogical as it was, that thought Tommy's idea of running away together, of leaving his dad, his friends, of leaving Crabapple Cove behind and never looking back sounded like the most appealing thing he'd ever heard and even if it was only for two months before the thing growing inside killed him, he wanted it, wanted it more than anything.

He knew in that moment even if he could go back and change what they did, if he could stop them from having sex that night, he'd probably still make the same mistake with Tommy again.

\-------

“Is there something you’d like to tell me, Ben?”

Hawkeye’s fork froze midway to his mouth and even as he willed himself not to react, not to act guilty, he could feel his eyes go wide and his whole body quiver in fear. Lowering his fork back to his plate, he stared at the center of the table and tried not to let on that his father's intense stare made him feel as antsy as it did.

The question was out of nowhere and Hawkeye doesn't know what prompted him to ask, but he's terrified he already knows what his dad wants him to confess, because there's only two secrets he has ever kept from his dad and Tommy hadn't been around in over a week. He was too busy working his summer job, determined to pay for his kid even though Hawkeye told him he couldn't keep it and had explained what would probably happen to both Hawkeye and the baby after next month, when it was finally born. Tommy had been optimistic, but Hawkeye fully understood the seriousness of what they did, and has told himself he'd live with whatever consequences came. Even the worse. Although, it wasn't like he had a choice in the matter.

“No,” Hawkeye lied. “Of course not.”

He risked a glance upward into his father's eyes and realized quickly what a mistake it was.

There was sadness and disappointment there, and suddenly Hawkeye couldn't help but feel guilty. He slumped in his seat.

“Ben, I already know. I was just hoping that you would trust me enough to tell me.”

Hawkeye knew this trick -- it was one of Dad's favorites. He didn't know what secret Hawkeye was keeping, but he hoped to drag a confession out of him. It had worked before more times than he wanted to admit, but the secrets had never been something this earth-breaking before and he'd had never been so afraid of what his father might say or do when he found out. If his dad knew, he wouldn't have stayed quiet about it for this long.

It was psychological warfare, but Hawkeye wouldn't break, not this time.

“No, you don't,” Hawkeye said with confidence. 

“Yes,” Dad said as he leveled him with a hard stare, “I do.”

Hawkeye swallowed nervously and told himself not to be fooled -- he needed to stand his ground. He couldn't break -- not yet, not when he was still weeks away from the baby coming, from when he’d no longer have any choice but to tell, and despite the fact that he was terrified of what might happen if he said nothing at all, he wasn't ready. 

He mustered up his courage and returned his father's stare.

He was like a strange game of chicken, each one daring the other to blink first. The problem was, Hawkeye could feel his resolve crumbling and sweat start at his temples. He'd never stood up to his father like this before and as terrifying as it was, it was also exhilarating.

Despite his hands shaking and the nervous tic in his fingers, he steadily returned the gaze.

To his surprise it was Dad that broke first. 

“I know that you and Tommy are close and I know that you're…” he trailed off and looked decidedly uncomfortable. “That you've gotten yourself in trouble.”

Hawkeye was silent. He didn't know what to say. Was Dad purposely being vague, in hopes that he might be close enough for Hawkeye to talk, or was this some sort of euphemism that he'd never heard?

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Hawkeye said after a long bout of silence that stretched awkward between them. This time, it was the truth. He honestly didn't know if his father really had figured it out or if he was trying to ferret the truth out of his son.

“Yesterday morning I watched you turn up your nose at my french toast and instead dip a dill pickle in your maple syrup. I know Mrs. Benson's pickles are not very good, but I can't see how that would possibly be an approvement. I could barely watch you without gagging.”

He was really hoping his dad hadn't notice some of the stranger cravings he's had lately. That one had hit the spot dead on at the time, but now as he thought about it did seem disgusting. He hadn't even thought that it might be something he needed to hide from his dad.

“You pick at your food, but gain weight. You were sick for months, mostly in the mornings and I can never use the restroom because it's always occupied already by you. Ben, I'm a doctor, and it doesn't take a learned man to know pregnancy signs when he sees them, so stop treating me like I'm some sort of simpleton.”

Hawkeye looked away, shame and embarrassment coloring his cheeks. He could feel tears start in his eyes and his throat grow tight. Was it all over? All the sneaking around he had done to hide this and it apparently hadn't even mattered. His father didn’t seem angry, but he'd always been good at punishing Hawkeye without a sign of it. 

He dropped his fork, his hands shaking too bad to hold on or even pretend he was alright. He wasn't.

He was scared. Scared of his father, of the baby that kicked and squirmed and lived inside him, of the consequences that would befall him, scare of never seeing Tommy again.

“Benjamin, I want you to tell me the truth,” his father said, his voice calm and steady. “Are you a homosexual?”

He couldn't speak. The tears were starting to fall now in hot droplets that hit his hands and splashed across his dinner plate. His nose dripped and his face grew hot and he felt miserable.

This conversation was worse than he could have imagined. Being put on the spot reminded him of being a small child with his hand caught in the cookie jar. He couldn't talk his way out of this, his father knew and all he could do was throw himself at his mercy.

“I don't know,” he managed after a few sniffs. The words sounded small and distorted. But they were the truth. He was attracted to other boys, to Tommy, but he'd never had to force himself to like girls. They had soft bodies and they always smelled nice. He knew the first part would label him as a homosexual, but the word never quite seemed to fit him.

His dad stood up from the table, his chair dragging noisily across the wooden floorboards and even before he walked over to Hawkeye, he was trying to shy away, to hide. Then the heavy footsteps started, _thud, thud, thud_ across the room and when he raised his hand Hawkeye flinched.

His father had never hit him before -- he had barely ever even spanked him --and had always said he hated violence of any kind, but he had been pushed too far. Everyone had a breaking point and Hawkeye had caused his father's.

He closed his eyes and waited for the blow to come, but instead there was a hand resting lightly on his back, then it began to rub soothing circles.

Hawkeye opened his eyes and looked at his father, confused.

“It's okay to be confused about who you are. You’re only fourteen after all,” his dad said gently. “You're my son, and I love you no matter what you discover about yourself, do you understand?”

Hawkeye nodded and tried to wipe away the tears. He didn't understand though, how easily his dad could just accept everything. He had heard about people being killed over being a homosexual, at the very least beat or disowned, and here was his dad, pulling him into a hug.

It didn't make sense.

He tentatively put his arms around his father, his face pressed against his stomach as his hand brushed his hair back.

“I know you're scared,” his dad said softly, “but it will be alright.”

“Are you going to send me away like they did to Debbie Perkins?”

“No, Ben,” he said soothingly. “We'll figure out what to do together. You don't need to go through this alone anymore. And you can tell Tommy to stop planning when you might run off together.”

Hawkeye sniffed.

“You knew about that?”

His dad laughed lightly. 

“Everyone's first instincts when something goes wrong is to run -- it's human nature. That aside, I do remember what it was like being a teenager.”

“Are you disappointed in me?”

His father didn't answer him, just massaged his scalp with long, skilled fingers and held him close. Really Hawkeye was gladful he didn't, because he could see it in his dad’s eyes and he didn't know if he could bear to hear the truth from his lips now that his hands have finally stopped shaking and his stomach was beginning to unknot.

\-------

There was an intense pain in his belly like he had never felt before and it left him breathless and wide awake.

Dad said that the baby may come earlier than they planned, especially with how young and small Hawkeye still was -- still a full head shorter than his dad despite the fact that he's grown this past year -- nevermind the fact that he was the wrong gender for this sort of thing. Dad had been studying up on the subject in an attempt to prepare long before he had confronted Hawkeye about it and the truth was there was hardly any medical information on the subject, just short paragraphs and pages scattered throughout medical journals and books, most of it useless.

It hadn't been a comfort and had only served to make Hawkeye more anxious about the coming baby.

He glanced at the clock. 

It was three thirty in the morning.

He was likely he was the only person in the entire town awake right now, which made it easier for his dad to smuggle him into the clinic for surgery, but also meant his dad was asleep.

He took a deep breath and tried to move, but the sudden pain of a contraction kept him rooted to the spot along with the sudden feeling of wetness between his legs.

Oh god. His water broke. That meant to baby was coming soon, right? Did they even have time to drive to the clinic?

The panic that started through him was what finally forced him to throw aside the sheet that covered him and move his legs slowly over the side of the bed. He couldn't look back at the wet spot on the mattress or down at his underwear, afraid of what he might see and thankful for the veil of darkness made by the rain that pelted his window.

He tried to take a breath to steady his nerves, but the mugginess of the air and the sharp contractions were making it hard to breathe. He needed to wake his dad up, but truthfully walking had been hard for the last month and a half, it made everything hurt, his back, his knees, and most of all his hips -- which he swore had gotten wider although Dad said it was just his imagination. He could barely leave his bed the last two weeks and the idea of the trip from his room to his father's down the hall seemed daunting.

It took him two tries of pushing himself up and off the bed before Hawkeye managed to stay upright and on his feet, then slowly, hunched forward with his hand pressed tight against his swollen stomach, he began to walk. It was a slow hobble punctuated by the pain that accompanied his contractions and the sudden urge to push. He knew that was the last thing he should do.

“Dad!” he finally shouted as his hand looked for purchase on the door knob, but his sweaty hands were making it hard to find a grip and he could barely stand from the intense pressure the baby was putting on his pelvis.

“Dad! Wake up!” he tried again as his fingers finally managed to turn the knob and push open the door to his bedroom. 

He pushed his way into the hall, but had to rest against the wall, out of breath.

“Dad!” he wheezed, his lungs hurting, and for the first time he wondered if something was wrong, if maybe he shouldn't feel so short of breath. What is something was wrong with the baby?

He's breathing was labored when his father finally appeared in the doorway of his room, his familiar red robe wrapped around him.

“Ben?” he asked, rubbing his eyes. “Are you okay? What's going on?”

“My water broke!” Hawkeye yelled in between sharp gasping breaths.

“Fuck!” his father swore, and if Hawkeye wasn't currently trying to not die, he might of marveled at that longer, unsure if he ever actually heard him say it before. “Are you positive?”

“Either my water broke or Niagara falls just relocated to my underwear!”

“Alright, calm down. Don't panic,” Dad soothed, although his voice sounded anything but. “And most of all, don't push!”

Now that his dad said it, the sudden urge to push was all he could think about.

“But I need to!” Hawkeye complained, but closed his eyes and tried to breathe and resist the natural urge.

“We need to get to the clinic. Can you walk down the stairs?”

“Are you kidding?” Hawkeye asked, his eyes wide as he looked at his father. “It was all I could do to walk this far! If you haven't noticed I'm about to have a baby here!”

His legs felt like jelly, and he had to keep fighting the urge to spread them. He'd read that women had natural instincts that kicked in when they gave birth; he wasn't a girl, but apparently it didn't matter that he didn't have the right parts for the baby to come out, his body was trying anyways to tell him what to do. He hoped those instincts stuck around after the baby was born too, or he wasn't sure how he'd ever care for it -- if his dad let him keep it.

Dad looked frustrated with him before he ran his hand through his hair and came forward to wrap his arm around Hawkeye's shoulder.

“Hold on to me,” his dad ordered. “I'm going to carry you.”

“What? No. Stop! You'll give yourself a hernia!” 

His protests fell on deaf ears as he dad slid his arm under Hawkeye's legs and lifted him.

He squirmed and when he felt his dad's grip slip he quickly wrapped his arms around his neck and held on for dear life.

“Don't drop me!” 

“If you don't stop moving I won't have a choice.”

Hawkeye hid his face as his father stepped towards the first stair, afraid of what was going to happen. His dad wasn't an old man, but he'd spent his whole adult life as a doctor not a farmer or a worker, and Hawkeye knew that with the baby inside him he wasn't light. But Dad made quick work of the steps and it was only a few seconds for Hawkeye popped his head back up, expecting to be put down. 

“Open the door,” Dad said, his voice strained and Hawkeye loosened an arm from around his neck so be could reach out and twist the doorknob. 

As annoying as it was in winter when the snow was deep, Hawkeye's never been so appreciative of the fact that their front door opened out. His father easily kicked the door open and passed through and Hawkeye tucked his legs in as close as he could so they could make it through the opening. A few seconds later he was being set on his feet outside of his father's Packard, his skin slick with sweat and the warm rain that wet his hair and stung his eyes.

“Get in. I need to grab a few things from the house.”

It seemed like an eternity had passed before they were sitting outside of the clinic and suddenly Hawkeye wondered if maybe it wasn't too late to try a natural birth.

His father was a good doctor, but he wasn't a surgeon and he'd read enough on the subject of cesareans to know that a lot could go wrong. 

He glanced over at his father, gathering his bag of supplies from the seat between them. He didn't look nervous at all despite the fact that Hawkeye knew he had read the same books and Hawkeye wondered how he could be so confident. 

He must have felt Hawkeye's eyes on him because he looked up and smiled. 

“Everything will be alright, Ben. I promise.”

He paused to push Hawkeye's wet hair from his forehead and looked into his eyes.

“I know you're frightened, but this is too important to me -- you're too important to me -- for me to let anything go wrong.”

He offered Hawkeye a smile and Hawkeye tried to return it before another contraction hit and he was doubled over again, clutching his stomach.

“Alright,” His dad said before he took a deep breath. He let it out and even though it was unsteady, Hawkeye could tell he was as ready as he could ever be. “Let's go have a baby.”

\-----

He was still groggy. 

Dad said he might feel like that for a few days, it was a side effect of the ether and the labor, and although Hawkeye didn't love the bone deep exhaustion he felt, he was happy to hold in his arms the product of said labor.

Tommy leaned over the edge of the bed from where he was perched in a chair, careful not to jostle Hawkeye's healing body as he looked at the tiny wrinkled baby Hawkeye held wrapped in a white receiving blanket. 

Tommy cooed at her and she blinked up at him with wide, unfocused blue eyes. She looked like she might cry and Hawkeye was torn between laughing at her reaction to seeing her father for the first time and frustrated because she had only just stopped before Tommy had arrived.

“You know, part of me was convinced you were having one over on me,” Tommy said with a grin as he placed his finger in the baby’s palm and she wrapped her tiny digits around his.

“I was,” Hawkeye said seriously. “I stole this baby from Mrs. Cranston down the street. The stitches are just done in pen.”

Tommy laughed at him, his eyes squinting and his whole face contorting as he gave Hawkeye an open mouth grin before he looked back down at the tiny infant. His expression softened, but the grin stayed firmly in place.

“Can I hold her?” Tommy asked after a few more minutes, and frankly, Hawkeye was more than a little happy at the request, because his arms where getting tired. Besides, there was a certain magic in his eyes as Hawkeye nodded and carefully held the newborn out to be received that made his stomach clench and his heart flutter.

“Support her head,” Hawkeye instructed and Tommy obeyed, fingers ever so carefully sliding under Hawkeye's before he delicately lifted her.

He cradled her to his chest with a look of awe and Hawkeye watched him fondly as he leaned back into his pillows.

He'd heard babies often brought people together, and he could see in Tommy's face that it wasn't likely he'd ever forget this moment. Hawkeye's heart squeezed painfully in his chest as he wondered if this might change something between them. He had hoped that maybe seeing the product if their union would stir something in Tommy and that maybe, just maybe he'd look at Hawkeye the way Hawkeye looked at him.

Tommy was still smiling when he looked up again at Hawkeye, but his expression had not changed. There was wonder, but where Hawkeye wanted to see his own love reflected back there were just Tommy's kind, smiling eyes with the same familiar glint of mischief.

“How long until you can go outside again?” Tommy asked before he leaned into Hawkeye’s space, baby still pressed protectively to his chest. Hawkeye’s heart pounded, wondering for a moment if Tommy might kiss him before his voice dropped into a conspiratorial whisper and he said, 

“I found this spot outside of Tammy Baker’s house where you can see into her bedroom and she can't see you. It's great. Yesterday I saw full naked tits.”

Hawkeye didn't know what to say. A few months ago that would have been great news, after all, it was no secret between them that she was something of a favorite masturbatory fantasy of his for nearly two years, but now, while he was sitting beside Tommy who was holding the child they made together, he found she didn't interest him anymore.

“I don't know,” Hawkeye said as he reached for his baby, suddenly feeling possessive of her. Tommy reluctantly let her go. “Dad's worried my incision might get infected. Besides, I have a baby to take care of now. I can't just stay out all night just in case some girl takes off her bra.”

It felt like a sudden weight settled on his shoulders as he spoke those words. There had been so much excitement the last two days over the birth of his daughter that he hadn't thought about how much his life had suddenly changed.

He stared down at the tiny scrunched face of the newborn in his arms. It was hard to believe something so small and innocent could put such a wrench in the gears of his life. All that time he'd spent unable to get out of bed he'd read, mostly his dad's medical books and journals, and it had almost started to seem like maybe being a doctor was in his blood -- he'd always wanted to be a doctor, but now he knew for sure he should be. But he couldn't go to college with a kid to support. He'd be lucky if he even finished high school. Tommy acted like nothing changed, because for him, it really hadn't. They couldn't get married, even if Tommy was interested in him, so it reality it was just Hawkeye all alone with a baby while Tommy’s life went on carefree.

Tommy was frowning at him.

“Some girl? Hawkeye, you've been salivating over her for years! Remember that time you accidentally touched her boob in the hallway? I thought you were going to faint!” 

“Well that was last year. Before I had a baby. A baby, that I might remind you, you helped make!”

Tommy at least had the decency to look guilty. 

“Geez. I'm sorry, Hawkeye. I just thought you might want to think about something else for a bit, maybe take your mind off the baby for a few minutes.”

“Well, I don't,” Hawkeye snapped, before he started to regret his tone. After all, Tommy had been supportive through the rest of his pregnancy and he'd come today excited to see his new baby. 

Hawkeye felt like a heel. He'd been irritable before the baby came when he had been too pregnant and hot to do much of anything, but now he didn't know what his excuse was. He was in pain still, and his hormones would probably take awhile before they returned to normal, but he didn't know if that could justify his foul mood.

Maybe it was just the fact that Tommy hadn't thought twice about him since he came into the room. He hadn't asked Hawkeye how he felt, hadn’t spared him much more than a glance, and it hurt.

He was about to open his mouth to apologize when his dad knocked on the open door frame with a tray in his hand.

He offered Tommy a smile and a nod before he looked at Hawkeye.

“How are you feeling, Ben?”

He came into the room and slid the full tray onto his night stand, pushing aside his alarm clock and a dog-eared novel he'd already read twice to make room.

The tray was mostly full of medical supplies, but there was a baby bottle in the corner filled with a rich looking milk, and Hawkeye didn't hesitate to reach for it when the infant in his arms gave a tiny noise, afraid she might cry again.

His hand didn't even reach the edge of the bed before pain shot through his belly and suddenly he was gasping in pain and nearly dropped the baby in surprise. It was lucky his dad was there in an instant, taking the baby from him and tucking her against his body with one hand before he forces Hawkeye back against his pillows.

“Careful,” he warned, “I had to cut through your stomach muscles. It will take a long time before you fully heal. I know the morphine helps, but if you keep moving around you'll pull a stitch.”

He held the baby out for Tommy who took her in silent obedience. Tommy had never had much respect for authority figures, but somehow his father had never had to try to get Tommy to do what he asked. He didn't know if it was the stern expression Dad often wore, or just the fact that somehow he'd won Tommy over with his easy acceptance of just about everything that he and Hawkeye could throw at him -- including homosexuality and pregnancy, which really was asking too much.

“I need to check your stitches and change the bandage,” his dad said as he turned down the sheet that was draped over Hawkeye's bare stomach.

“Maybe I should take the baby out for some air,” Tommy said, but Dad made a motion for him to sit before Tommy could do much more than raise his bottom from the seat.

“No, this will only take a moment, then I'd like to speak to the both of you.”

Hawkeye didn't like the sound of that, but he couldn't exactly walk away considering he was currently laid up. 

His father quickly pulled the bandage, wet with still seeping blood, away from the incision and tossed it onto the tray before he studied the line of black stitches that decorated his skin. His belly was still swollen, but now it looked soft and saggy rather than the hard and round it had looked before the baby had come. Dad assured him it would eventually return to normal, probably fairly quickly given his young age, but Hawkeye hated looking at the stretched and deflated mess his once flat stomach had been and the fact that Tommy was here to see it only made it worse.

“Is he going to have a scar?” Tommy asked, as he reached for the bottle on the tray, noticeably avoiding the blood soaked bandage. He looked a little confused about what to do before he seemed to decide to just dive in and cram the nipple into the baby's open mouth. She made a soft crying sound before she began to suckle and Tommy looked pleased with himself.

“Although I tried to do as many stitches as I could to minimize the appearance, yes, Tommy, he will.”

The stitches must have passed inspection because his father reached for a fresh bandage and placed it over the wound.

Hawkeye hated to idea of a scar that big and ugly permanently tattooed on his belly. More than just feeling a sense of vanity, it was a constant reminder he'd forever wear of his indiscretion and of Tommy. It was hardly something he'd be able to explain to anyone who saw him naked in the future. He wasn't shy, but he knew he'd probably be self-conscious about it for years to come.

When he had finished dressing the wound, he pulled the sheet back up to Hawkeye's chest, before he sat down the edge of the mattress and stared over at the baby in Tommy's arms.

“We need to have a very serious discussion about her,” Dad said quietly and Hawkeye's stomach dropped.

“Do we have to do it so soon?” Hawkeye asked, worry eating at him. He glanced at the tiny infant, a warm feeling going through him when he saw the way her little fist curled around Tommy's finger again. He didn't understand how he could have become attached so quickly, especially given how scared he'd been to have her, but the idea of losing her now, of giving her up seemed impossible to bear.

“Ben, please,” Dad said. “I know it's hard, but we need to talk about it.”

“I'm not giving her up,” Hawkeye told him as he stubbornly set his jaw.

“Yeah, me neither. I’ve been saving up my wages all summer to take care of her.”

Dad doesn't respond to their words, just sighs before he continues on.

“I've thought a lot about this recently -- about what we could do. I'm going to tell everyone that she was found on the doorstep of the clinic. Mary agreed to tell the same if someone asked.”

Mrs. Mary Dobbs was both his father's secretary and nurse. Hawkeye couldn't remember how many years she had worked at the clinic, but she had always been a kind and friendly lady that treated Hawkeye like her own son, and could be trusted to be discrete when asked. 

“I told her a young lady came to me in confidence about a pregnancy and that I helped her without the knowledge of her parents. I also told her that you were the baby's father.”

He paused and Hawkeye didn't know how to process that information. She knew the baby was his. It was a fantastic lie, perfect and simple and hawkeye can't believe he hadn't thought of it too.

“I'm going to write the state and find out about the adoption process in a few days.”

Suddenly he couldn't breath. 

“You're still going to take her away from me? After creating that lie?” Hawkeye asked, not bothering to hide his hurt and anger. 

His father frowned as the baby began to wibble softly before she was given a soothing shush.

“Ben,” he started, but Hawkeye swiftly cut him off.

“It's been two days! How dare you take her from me after I started to hope she'd be mine. I should have known better than to trust you.”

“Benjamin Franklin Pierce,” his dad said sharply, and Hawkeye prompted closed his mouth. His father rarely invoked his middle name, only when he was truly angry.

“You've put me in a tough position, but I can't watch you throw away your life because of a mistake. If you insist on acting like a child than it's clear to me that am making the right decision.”

“What about her life?” Tommy asked. 

Hawkeye had nearly forgotten he was in the room. When he glanced over, Tommy didn't look angry or upset, he looked defiant. 

“I am thinking about hers,” Dad said softly, his eyes on the baby. “The two of you have misunderstood my intentions. I'm asking for the papers so I can adopt her legally, so that she would be my daughter.”

Hawkeye was stunned. He didn't know what to say.

“The two of you are too young and immature to raise a child. I don't think either of you would argue with that. I know signing away your rights as a parent will be tough, but she would still be in your lives.”

“So, she would be my sister?” Hawkeye asked, his brain trying to adjust to the idea.

“I don't want you to think that this gets you out of your responsibilities completely. I still expect you feed her, bathe her, change her diapers -- everything I ask of you. But I want you to finish school. Your responsibly to your education always comes first. Both of you.”

“But I can come over and see her whenever I want?” Tommy asked eagerly.

“Of course, Tommy,” he said with a kind smile. “There's just one thing.”

“What?” Hawkeye asked. 

He took a deep breath and Hawkeye knew it would be bad news. 

“She can't ever know who her real parents are. Children of male carrier’s would likely face the same stigma as their parents. It's for her own good.”

Hawkeye let out a shaky breath. 

It seemed unbelievable that she would get to remain in his life and he couldn't stop the feeling of joy he got at knowing he'll get to be there for her first steps, her first word, her first tooth, every first he never thought he'd get to see even a month ago. But to be by her side his whole life and never be able to tell her what she was to him… could he really do that?

“Okay,” he said after a few moments.

“I suppose we don't have much choice,” Tommy agreed.

His father let out a sigh and seemed to look lighter. He reached out for her and Tommy silently passed her over before he sat the empty glass bottle back on the tray.

Hawkeye was still learning about babies, and Tommy just looked lost when she began to cry, but Dad expertly held her against his chest and patted her back until the tiny sniffles stop and she let out a burp.

“She had a gas bubble,” he explained, his smile wide as he cradled her in his arms and looked down at her, and Hawkeye knew they were making the right decision.

He glanced over at Tommy, and this time Tommy grinned and reached out for his hand. He squeezed it tight before he raised it to his lips and Hawkeye's heart gave a small flutter of hope.

His dad turned his attention back on them, eyes moving to their clasped hands and Hawkeye guiltily began to draw his hand from Tommy’s before Tommy stopped him, keeping a firm hold.

His dad offered them both a smile at Tommy's bold move.

“I suppose,” he cleared his throat, “with that settled, the only thing left is to give her a name.”

\-------

(1951)

Those days seem like a lifetime away now, the fear he felt then a pale comparison to what he lives with everyday in Korea and today he faced the worst one.

He'd seen men die before, he'd seen shrapnel taken out of guts that resembled hamburger rather than organs, seen the most brutal of man's capabilities, but today it had been personal. He never imagined the pain could feel so intense or that it would feel like an essential piece of his life had suddenly been taken away from him. He never imagined that Tommy of all people would stared up at him from an operating table, and that he'd looked as scared, helpless and young as anyone else that had laid there before.

But he hadn't been able to save Tommy.

He had cried and for all Henry's words of comfort they weren't enough. He couldn't explain to Henry what Tommy meant to him, couldn't explain that Tommy had a daughter he'd never see grow up or get married, or that when her birthday came in July that she would be anticipating a familiar anonymous card full of money that would never come.

Tommy had moved on with his life, went to college, dated girls, found success and he and Hawkeye had grown somewhat distant, but Tommy had never forgotten about her, or his promise to care for her, with or without Dad's approval. Dad spent the last fifteen years putting away the money Tommy sent so that when the time came for her to go out into the world she wouldn't need worry about finances. Hawkeye has always hoped she'd use it go to college, but Tommy never cared, just happy to give her anything he could. He was determined that even if he never got to really be a part of her life, that she would know that she was loved and Hawkeye has always appreciated that, even if he'd never said a word about it.

Hawkeye is startled out of his thoughts by the feeling of Trapper's fingers pushing under his shirt. He'd almost forgot he wasn't alone, which is a little crazy considering how small the cots are and how small Trapper is not. 

It isn't often they get to be this intimate together in the Swamp, but Frank had disappeared into Hot Lips’ tent for night and Trapper had thought it was worth the risk to sneak into his bed. Hawkeye hadn't protested. Trapper isn't the best at offering comfort, but Hawkeye appreciates the effort.

The truth is, he didn't want to be alone and Trapper's body pressed to his is a welcomed distraction from the dark path his thoughts were walking down.

Trapper presses his lips to the side of Hawkeye's jaw and he lifts his chin, exposing his neck to the wandering kisses. He's not in the mood for sex, but it's so rare if Trapper initiates anything that Hawkeye doesn't want to discourage him. It isn't until Trapper's hand moves towards the buttons on the front of his boxers that Hawkeye reaches down to still his hand. Trapper doesn't fight him, just moves his hand back to Hawkeye's belly and the scar there, his fingers gently tracing the line of it. 

It's a habit Trapper picked up shortly after they slept together for the first time, but he's never asked how the scar had come into being and Hawkeye hadn't volunteered the information. Being with Trapper is like that, comfortable, but there are invisible boundaries they both know better than to push and what to let go. They compliment each other in a way Hawkeye never felt before. There are never any I love yous between them, or words of tender affection at all, but it didn't need to be spoken for Hawkeye to know it's there, silent in the air between them. 

It had never been like this with Tommy. Despite their friendship and how close they had been, how desperately in love Hawkeye thought he was, this sort of easy intimacy had never come to them. When Tommy had left for college, Hawkeye hadn't cried or mourned the loss of him, he had just thrown himself into his studies and girls, his adolescent crush on his best friend nearly all but forgotten within a year or two.

Maybe it will be that way with Trapper too. Maybe he’ll move on and forget when the war is over and Trapper goes back to his wife and kids and Hawkeye goes… he isn't sure where he wants to go. The lure of home calls him, sure, the the idea of going back to Crabapple Cove, of walking by the Gillis’s house and remembering Tommy's dirt streaked face as he bled out left him feeling empty, made home feel empty.

How can he ever face Tommy's parents knowing he couldn't save their son? Or worse yet, how can he ever look into the eyes of his daughter and not see the familiar mischievous glint she had inherited and hear his infectious laugh.

Trapper's hand comes to rest at the center of the scar and Hawkeye covers the back of his hand with his palm before he laces their fingers together.

“You could cry you know,” Trapper says softly, his lips still pressing kisses against Hawkeye's skin. “I wouldn't think any less o’ ya.”

Hawkeye takes a deep unsteady breath. 

“Tommy hated when I cried. Said only girls and babies cried.”

His throat feels tight, but he doesn't shed anymore tears. It was the last thing Tommy would have wanted.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“There's nothing to talk about,” Hawkeye tells him and it's a lie, there's so much he wants to tell Trapper about Tommy, but it would take so long for Hawkeye to explain, longer than they might have together and living in the past is hard when the present seems so uncertain. “I couldn't save him.”

Trapper opens his mouth to respond, and Hawkeye doesn't need to hear it to know Henry's already got it covered and there's really nothing more that Trapper can add, so he turns his head and captures Trapper's lips in his.

Trapper's fingers move against his scar and Hawkeye's mind wanders again, even as Trapper deepens the kiss, his tongue pressing tightly against Hawkeye's lips until he opens his mouth to let him in. 

He thought about his daughter often, every time his “sister” sent a homemade gift or wrote a letter, but it wasn't until Tommy came back into his life that Hawkeye thought about being fourteen again, about anxiously fumbling with Tommy’s belt, afraid he might change his mind if Hawkeye's fingers slowed down. Then afterwards, when they were soaked in sweat and Tommy had laid there in Hawkeye's bed, between the sheets looking sated and amazed while Hawkeye wondered if it ever got better, if maybe they had done something wrong. He hadn't anticipated that losing his virginity would hurt so much, but it was easier and more pleasurable the next time, less than ten minutes later when Tommy wanted to go again and then again until they were both far too exhausted to move let alone screw.

Then four months later everything changed.

Fifteen years seems like a lifetime ago. It was no wonder he hadn't recognized the feeling until Tommy had come blowing into post-op like a tornado and turned his comfortable life with Trapper upside down.

The nausea he thought was the food, the weight gain he thought was poor health, the exhaustion he thought was the meatball surgery. He had felt it before, but it had never once crossed his mind that it could be anything but army life getting to him. 

It only takes him a moment to pinpoint when it must have happened. 

He’s been so careful, so afraid to repeat his childhood mistake and Trapper has never once questioned his insistence on wearing a condom, never once argued. They’re always cautious, always careful.

R&R in Tokyo is the one time carelessness often goes out the window. They can spend all day fucking and no one will know, no one will be suspicious, no one will talk. They can get as drunk and stupid as they want without the consequences catching up.

Except that, apparently, they did.

Hawkeye pulls away from the kiss and wonders if Trapper’s noticed the way his belly is beginning to get full and round, if he's had his suspicions and maybe this is just one of those things they aren't allowed to talk about.

It's been three months since their last trip to Tokyo and Hawkeye doesn't know how much longer they can ignore what they've done, because in less than six months the evidence will be there for everyone to see.

“Do you want more kids?” Hawkeye asks, and given the way Trapper suddenly looks at him like he's just asked if Trapper wanted to strip naked and run through the minefields, it was obvious that Trapper's brain hasn't made the connections that Hawkeye's has.

“What brought that on? Didn't see you hittin’ the sauce.”

“Everything with Tommy,” Hawkeye shakes his head, closes his eyes, and tries to concentrate on the warm feel of Trapper's wide palm pressed against his stomach. “It got me thinking about when we were kids -- all the things we thought we'd do in the future.”

Trapper's silent for a moment and he wonders if he'll accept Hawkeye's excuse or call his bluff.

“Before I was drafted, Louise and I tried, but it just never took. After I got here...” Trapper pauses and Hawkeye opens his eyes to stare up at him. His hazel eyes look conflicted and Hawkeye thinks he understands. He wants more, he just isn't sure he wants them with her.

“What about me?” Hawkeye asks, and he's trying to be calm and cool but his voice shakes as he chokes on the question. “Would you want them with me?”

Trapper laughs like it's the funniest thing that he's ever heard and Hawkeye's chest aches at the sound. 

“Hawk, even if you were a carrier, if you hadn't noticed, we're in the middle of a war. It's not exactly an ideal sorta situation to bring a baby into.”

Trapper chuckles to himself at Hawkeye's supposed joke and Hawkeye lets the silence stretch between them until Trapper realizes he's not laughing with him.

“Hawk?” 

“It's a little late for thinking about whether or not it's an ideal situation.”

Trapper pulls his hand away from his belly and the grip of his fingers before he cranes his neck and looks down at Hawkeye with a frown.

“What’dya sayin’?”

Hawkeye takes a deep breath and tries to collect himself. It only serves to make his throat tight and his words wobble when he finds them.

“I'm saying that I think I'm pregnant. About three months.”

Trapper's silent, his eyes darting back and forth over Hawkeye's face as if searching for some telltale sign that it's a joke. After an eternity the search stops and Trapper sags into the mattress, his head falling to Hawkeye's shoulder.

“Did you know you were a carrier?” Trapper asks quietly, his voice strained, but for once Hawkeye can't read the emotion in his voice, doesn't know if it's anger or something else.

“Yes,” Hawkeye says honestly. “I've known for years.”

“How?” His voice is flat even as his hand goes to Hawkeye's stomach, his fingertips tracing the scar in a sort if nervous tic.

“You know that kid sister I talk about sometimes?”

“What about ‘er?”

Hawkeye sighed. He's never planned to tell a soul -- Tommy had taken this secret to the grave -- but his fingers curled into Trapper's hair and he thought that it isn't just their secret anymore.

“She's my daughter.”

Trapper sits up to stare down at him, disbelief evident.

“Now I know you're puttin’ me on,” Trapper says with a grin. “No way you can sell me that you had a baby at thirteen.”

Math has never been Trapper's strong point.

“Fourteen, actually.”

Trapper's face falls. 

“You're not kiddin’. She really is yours.”

“It was Dad's idea that he adopt her. I guess he couldn't stand the thought of us throwing our lives away because of a mistake.”

“Tommy was the father,” Trapper says, finally understanding Hawkeye's logic from the beginning. “Does she know?”

Hawkeye shakes his head. He can feel his eyes misting up again, reliving all the feelings he thought had been long forgot or at least repressed. 

“No. She thinks dad found her on his doorstep. It was better that way -- for her to think she was unwanted than for her to know the truth.”

“Did you love him?”

Hawkeye's breath shudders as his brain skids over that word, that forbidden word that he thought Trapper could never say, but of course it isn't about them that they're talking. Maybe that makes it easier, when you aren't involved.

“When I was fourteen I thought there would never be anyone else for me. It's too bad for me Tommy only had eyes for anything in a cheerleader uniform.”

“You don't have the legs for it,” Trapper says knowingly. 

Hawkeye laughs, but it sounds sad and hollow even to his own ears.

“I made a great cheerleader, no matter what Sally Reynolds may have said.”

Trapper grins.

“What did she say?”

“Mostly, ‘Get out of my uniform, you pervert!’ and ‘How did you get in my room?’”

They both laugh for a minute before Hawkeye winds down, feeling wistful and more than a little lost.

“Tommy was dating her at the time -- the dumb thing was, he was convinced I was trying to steal his girlfriend.” Hawkeye pauses and swallows down the lump in his throat. “That's how it was with Tommy. The sex didn't mean anything to him. I was just a willing partner while he waited for the next girl that would let him under her dress.”

“Did you ever tell em?” Trapper asked, looking genuinely interested.

“No,” Hawkeye says quietly. “He went off to college and I eventually moved on.”

“I'm sorry, Hawk,” Trapper says after the silence stretches between them, comfortable again. “For everything.”

“I still have to write Dad,” Hawkeye says, his throat growing tight again. “And Tommy's parents.”

“What about the baby?” Trapper says after a moment, his hand tentatively reaching to push his shirt back up, and caress the bump that was just starting to show. His expression looks caught somewhere between frightened and elated, and Hawkeye's just glad the darkness from earlier seems to have all but disappeared.

“I don't know. I never thought I'd get pregnant again.” He shakes his head. “I didn't even realize that's what was happening until I saw Tommy.”

“I don't know how to tell you this, Hawkeye,” Trapper starts seriously, “but I can't make an honest woman outta ya. I'm already married to Louise.”

“Well, I can't cancel the ceremony now. I already paid the cook to cater for us.”

“Are you tryin’ to convince me to marry you or give me food poisoning?” Trapper says with a grin.

“I have decided yet. Where are we honeymooning?”

“I hear the cesspool’s nice this time a year.”

“You really know how to treat a girl, don't you?” Hawkeye laughs, but Trapper doesn't join him this time.

“I can't believe we're gonna have a baby together.”

“I can’t believe you think I'd ever marry you,” Hawkeye jokes, but Trapper shakes his head.

“We have to make a plan. Maybe we can find someone we can trust -- someone that can help. Radar, maybe?”

He didn't want to talk about this. Not right now. Not when everything with Tommy just happened. This crisis can wait at least until tomorrow, at least out of respect for Tommy’s memory. He needs time to process everything that's happened, all the feeling and memories that Tommy brought back and it's not as if the baby's coming tonight or tomorrow or even the next day. 

“I don't want to talk about it tonight,” Hawkeye finally says as he turns on his side and kisses Trapper. It's long and slow and full of every emotion that Hawkeye's ever felt for him and when they break apart he's shaking. 

“Just... hold me? Just for tonight?” he asks after a moment.

Trapper gathers him up in his arms and Hawkeye can't hold on any longer. He feels like he's freefalling with no end in sight with nothing but Trapper as a tether.

In six months everything might change, but tonight… tonight he can hang on and pretend everything's okay, that in a month his daughter's birthday card will be in the mail, that Tommy will still be working on his memoir and that Trapper still stays with him not because he feels obligated, but because he wants to.

At least tonight he can pretend everything isn't falling apart including himself.


End file.
